


Sometimes He Dreams (and its not nightmares)

by Maka_Ora



Series: When Hargreeves Sleep [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: ALL of them need a hug, Diego Hargreeves Needs A Hug, F/M, Fuck Reginald Hargreeves, Mentions of Death, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, barely there, the beach, the hargreeves actually being happy, unnamed kids - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-27 04:10:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18189590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maka_Ora/pseuds/Maka_Ora
Summary: Sometimes Diego has normal, happy dreams. Not often, but sometimes.





	Sometimes He Dreams (and its not nightmares)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm making this a series, I think Five might be next.

On the rare occasion Diego has a normal day (no being a vigilante, no time traveling siblings, no apocalypse) and doesn’t pass out from exhaustion, he dreams.

 

No nightmares.

No memories.

No Reginald Hargreeves.

No powers.

Just him.

And Mom. His siblings.

 

(Yes, even Luther.)

 

Sometimes they’re at the beach.

The sun is high above head, shining and warm on his skin. The white sand goes on for miles. He can just barely see the forest in the distance. The blue water goes on far past the horizon.

He helps Mom set up the food on a red tartan blanket.

A few feet away, Vanya and Five are reading. Klaus and Ben are splashing in the water. Luther and Allison are racing down the beach, laughing as sand kicks up behind them.

When Mom calls everyone to eat, all of Diego’s siblings talk and laugh and joke and there’s no radio playing Herr Carlson.

 

Sometimes Diego dreams of Eudora.

In these dreams, Diego graduates from the police academy, second in his class, just barely behind Eudora.

He and Eudora live in a nice house with a white picket fence and a little boy that looks just like Diego and a baby girl, with big eyes and a bigger smile. Diego cradles her in his strong arms and she looks up at him with beautiful brown eyes that will never know fear or rejection. Not from him. And he gently sways around the kitchen as an unknown song fills him with happiness. Eudora twirls the little boy with a smile. The room is filled with happiness and song and love and the smell of chocolate chip cookies, still baking in the oven.

And in the morning, when Diego’s police radio wakes him (another strung out junkie. He prays it isn’t Klaus.), he pushes the beach and white picket fences and happy little boys and smiling siblings and Eudora from his head.

When he straps knives to his body, he doesn’t think of a tiny baby girl with Eudora’s eyes and his nose fitting perfectly in the crook of his arms.

When he drives across town, he doesn’t think of his Mom, alive and human.

And when he watches the coroner load a body, just skin and bones, he doesn’t think of his siblings, all alive and happy.

(It isn’t Klaus, but Diego doesn’t think of that either.)


End file.
